


Playing the Game

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU, M/M, Unfinished and Discontinued, Weird, possible fangirl japanese
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2000-03-27
Updated: 2000-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duo and Heero, on the run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Repost for archival purposes.

The heat rose off the pavement in shimmering waves, cloaking the gas station and the highway with an air of faint surreality. The rust-red car roared into the scant shade offered by the overhead canopy; the engine sputtered as the driver killed it. He stepped out of the car and glanced around with a practiced air, then calmly went about the process of unscrewing the hidden gas cap and filling the tank.

 

The attendant, with nothing better to do but snitch half-stale doughnuts from the display case and re-read the newspaper, watched with idle curiosity. The appearance fo the driver and the car contrasted sharply. The car was a 1976 Chevrolet Nova, looking a touch battered and worse for the wear, and desperately in need of a good wash and wax. It fits its environs--a sleepy, dusty Midwestern town with one stoplight that was slowly baking to death in the noon sun. The man pumping gas, on the other hand, was all chilly angles and shadow. Lean, he wore a dark business suit that showed by its cut and fit that it had never seen a rack in a men's clothing store. Sunglasses so dark that the attendant doubted that a person standing a few inches away would have been able to discern whether he had eyes or not perched on his nose.

 

He finished pumping the gas and wiped the windshields clean with surprising finesse. Then he turned and headed into the tiny convenience store, walking with such purpose that he seemed capable of taking the world on and winning.

 

"Afternoon," the attendant greeted him as the bell over the door jingled, letting a whoosh of stifling air in with the suit-wearing stranger.

 

His customer spared him a single glance of contempt before moving to the cooler in the rear of the store. Without hesitation, he selected two sodas. He moved back up the aisles, seemingly looking for something specific as he grabbed a bag of chips and a couple packs of hard candies. Then he saw the display of cookies and grabbed two bags of the double-stuffed Oreos. Apparently satisfied, he strode to the counter.

 

The attendant glanced back out at the car and noticed for the first time the head pillowed against the passenger window frame. "On a trip with the wife, sir?" he asked, ringing up the items.

 

The man snorted softly, face unreadable. "Hardly. How much do I owe you?" he asked pointedly.

 

"Twenty-four ninety-six, sir," the attendant replied stiffly, offended. *Arrogant prick, aren't you?*

 

The man, who was still wearing his sunglasses, pulled out his wallet and extracted a twenty and a fie. "Keep the change." He replaced the wallet and picked up his purchases.

 

The attendant stared at him, face suddenly white and his gaze inexorably drawn to the slight bulge tucked in the waist of the man's pants. The jacket had mostly camouflaged it, but the customer's retrieval of his wallet had revealed the grip of a handgun.

 

The man saw the glance and smirked, then walked out the door, the door jingling once more behind him. The attendant watched him get into the Nova, speaking to the passenger and handing over a drink before starting the car and roaring back onto the highway.

 

~*~

 

"You awake?"

 

The young man slumped in the passenger seat uncurled slightly, mumbling indistinctly. "Yeah, I guess so."

 

"Got you something to drink."

 

"Is it cold?" He stretched and sat up straight, muscles creaking in protest.

 

"Of course." The driver shoved a bottle at him, then started the car with practiced ease.

 

"You're a saint, you know that?"

 

"Hn." The driver stole a glance out of the corner of his eye as the other man rearranged his lanky body and masses of hair. "I got some of those cookies you like, too."

 

"You're *so* good to me." The coke hissed and he took a long drink. "How long did I stay under?"

 

"A few hours... most of the state."

 

"Want me to drive for a while? You've been behind the wheel for a while now."

 

"I'm fine."

 

"Whatever. Let me know when you're ready for a switch."

 

They rode in silence for several minutes, before the quiet was broken again. "Man, Heero, what are we going to *do*?"

 

"I have a couple of contacts, they owe me a few favors. They'll see to it that we're taken care of."

 

"You should go back... none of this is your fault, man. I should be taking the heat, y'know?"

 

"No. I'm not abandoning this now. It's my fault you got into this mess, Duo, and I'm going to damn well make sure I get you out of it."

 

"D'you think we can make it?" Duo asked softly.

 

Heero looked at him again, and then reached over to grasp one of the other man's hands. "Yeah. We'll manage."


	2. Chapter 2

The Club was one of the best-kept secrets of the small city's dark side. The honest men and women who kept the metropolis running on the surface possessed no clue that it existed. The underworld of the city knew of it. Most who were in the game did. The small-time players spoke of the Club in awed, hushed whispers, half-dreaming and half-dreading that someday they'd be big enough players to have a more intimate knowledge of its workings. Only a few of the more elite circles within the game knew more than just vague rumors of the Club.

 

Only the best, however, *belonged* to the Club, or even knew where it was located.

 

Duo Maxwell still wasn't sure how he had managed to wander his way into the latter group. Now that the initial euphoria and relief had worn off, it was beginning to disturb him just how easily he had gotten in...

 

*Just play it cool,* he told himself. *You know why you're doing this, after all... Just gotta bluff our way through a couple nights of this, then we're home free...* He swirled the ice cubes in his glass absently, scanning the room. There was one regular at the Club who moved with complete impunity through the atmosphere of circumspection and unwritten codes. He roamed the circles of the elite players, but never deigned to mingle... Rumor said he had been one of the professional players in the big cities, had made his mark and his pile, and then--had got out.

 

Or as out as anyone who played the game for high stakes ever could. There wasn't really ever an escape from the game.

 

There he was, sitting alone in a booth, eyes flickering through the room and the crowd, never pausing more than a moment in the quest to remain ever vigilant. That was the price of playing. There was never any time to stop.

 

Duo checked himself again, both pleased and disgusted with his appearance. *I feel like a whore... but at least I look I'm worth the money.* He crossed his leather-clad legs loosely, jiggling his foot a little nervously and resisting the urge to pull the collar of his shirt up off his shoulder.

 

When the frigid gaze swept over him, he felt it. Duo glanced up slowly, meeting the brief glance from the shadows with apparent calm even as his guts did flips. The watcher in the corner looked away, continuing his assessment of the room... but looked back, only to find Duo still watching him. *Reel him in slowly, Maxwell...* He let a smile creep across his face, a challenging, sexy smile... or so he hoped, anyway.

 

Again, the watcher looked away first. *Damn it.* Duo fought the urge to curse out loud or otherwise reveal his disappointment (which was mingled with relief). *Oh well. He's in almost every night, there's still hope...*

 

"Excuse me, sir, but the gentleman in the corner booth would like to invite you to share a drink," a discreet waiter informed him.

 

Duo feigned nonchalance. "Really? How kind of him." He slid off the bar stool. *Show time...* Squaring his shoulders, he sauntered over to Heero Yuy's table, wondering (and not for the first time) if he could ever be prepared to do business with one of the game's most dangerous players.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript, November 2009: And yet another fic that I never finished, probably because I only had a vague idea what the premise was supposed to be, and no idea what the plot entailed. Mostly I wanted to write a fic with Duo and Heero on a roadtrip, with incidental intrigue.


End file.
